For A Heartbeat

I need an escape. I need to get out of this place for a while and stretch my legs. But I'm stuck here. Until then, thank God for writing and reading and all that other artsy stuff I love so much. When I write, I don't feel stuck in this world anymore. I feel free.

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The door closed softly in Claire’s delicate fingertips. Her heels stepped forward in darkness; head tilted upward, visible only in the shadow of moonlight through her open window. Hand gripped the cord of the ceiling lamp lightly; pulled. Darkness moments before; now vague light.

Her eyes moved to stare at the glass panes before her; they lay one on top of the other, revealing a four inch crack of air from outside. It was a clear night. She watched her reflection in the glass. Her hand slid off the bronze lamp chord as she lowered her gaze. She didn’t like it when people stared.

Sandy had stared. And…well, she didn’t mind him. Her mother would assume him to be a crazy pauper who wanted to take advantage of a rich girl like herself (Claire rolled her eyes). He had listened to her, though. And no one ever listened. Except for Jane. And now she was across the Atlantic.

At least the letter was sent, finally. Claire smiled to herself as she removed her heels and put her bare feet back on the wooden floor — covered with splinters no doubt. The letter was her only form of communication with her dear friend. And it would take…five, six days to arrive in England? She counted them off on her fingers, then shrugged. It would take long enough.

The air felt so cool and refreshing coming in through the open window, it drew her to it. She leaned her head through the opening and set her chin on her elbow, smiling dreamily at the moon above her. It looked like a fingernail. She could barely see the stars, which were supposedly everywhere else. There were too many lights nearby.

She silently vowed to see them properly someday, far away from city lights and her exasperating mother. Then she would be happy.